“If we’re running a marathon, then why am I in a tux?”
Telethon, Bobby.
“Ah. That makes much more sense, yeah.”
The teleprompter. Just read the teleprompter.
“Can’t have a telethon without a teleprompter.”
Sure.
“Okay, here we go. Welcome everyone to the First Annual TotD Telethon. My name’s Phil Lesh and…um.”
Shit! Sorry! Gotta rewrite the rewrite.
“You’re not great at this.”
Okay, here.
“Sure, sure. So, uh, my name is Bob Weir and I’m hosting tonight. We’ve got all kinds of guests and surprises, plus Tony Orlando in New York. Really? Tony Orlando?”
“Hey, Bob. Here’s the number to call if you’re in Bergen or Passaic. Also, this joke is so incredibly fucking specific.”
“Even more so than usual, yeah. I think maybe he’s lost it a little.”
I can hear you.
“I know.”
“Bob?”
“Yes, Tony Orlando?”
“With the world the way it is, don’t we all need just a bit of fun and silliness? And maybe a little semi-profound bullshit every once in a while?”
“Sure.”
“You work for free?”
“Shit, no.”
“Me, neither.”
Subtle, guys.
…
“So, uh, Tony: how’s Dawn?”
“Not a person.”
“Jesus, Tony, that’s racist as hell.”
“It’s the name of the band, Bob. Tony Orlando and Dawn. Like Chaka Khan and Rufus.”
“Rufus isn’t a person, either!?”
Can you two get back on topic?
“Hey! Give him money.”
“Uh, yeah. What Tony Orlando said.”
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